


Our Miracle, Under the Sun

by Akiko_Natsuko



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Memories, Pain, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 10:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: When Ignis had listened to his King walking away from him in Insomnia, they had both believed that was the last time they were going to see each other. They had both known the price that had to be paid for the dawn. The ten years in darkness, with Noctis lost within the crystal had taught Ignis to be selfish, and the night before the final battle he had pleaded with him not to follow the path fate had decided for him. Begged him to live, to stay with him, not caring in that moment that they would be condemning the world to darkness.  Noctis had kissed him that night, breaking the wall that they had desperately tried to keep between them for so long, and Ignis had shattered it, exploring his King, loving him in a way that had always been denied…and in the morning Noctis had walked to his fate with his head held high, and Ignis’ heart in his hands.Fate was cruel, the Astrals were not





	Our Miracle, Under the Sun

    Ignis was roused by a sound sleep by movement beside him, and even before his mind had caught up with what was happening he was moving, feeling for Noctis, unsurprised to find the other man hunched into a ball. Cautiously he laid a hand on Noct’s shoulder, prepared for the pained whimper that greeted his touch, it didn’t make it any easier to fight the urge to flinch back even after all this time and he had to count to three, reminding himself that Noct needed the contact as much as it might hurt him. It was enough to let him endure the soft whimpering as he pressed himself closer, reaching out with his other hand, carefully feeling his way until his fingers encountered the rough texture of his partner’s beard, moving past it to curl against his cheek.

“Easy Noct,” he murmured, soft and soothing, calm despite the panic that always threatened to engulf him when Noctis had one of these episodes. Had he been able to see, he knew that Noctis’ face would have been twisted with pain, bright eyes wild, and fracture lines of purple running across his skin. Gladio had described it to him after the Shield had witnessed it for the first time. Ignis ached to see it for himself, to see this enemy that he had been helping to fight for the last few years, but it was not to be, all he could do was soothe Noct and help him ride it out.

This wasn’t a battle either of them could win.

      Sometimes the episodes were over in a matter of minutes, still severe enough to leave Noctis exhausted and trembling for the rest of the days. Others could last for days, leaving Ignis teetering on the edge of uncertainty as he waited and prayed for Noct to come back to him again. Today was one of the former, and barely ten minutes later had he felt Noctis slowly beginning to relax under his hands, the whimpers which hadn’t abated despite his best efforts to soothe him finally fading away. Ignis waited, gently stroking Noctis’ cheek and murmuring soothing words in his ears, talking about anything and everything to take his partner’s mind off what was happening, and it was only when weak, trembling fingers reached up to curl around his that he trailed off with a quiet. “Noct?”

“It’s over,” Noctis whispered, and Ignis could feel him moving, twisting to face Ignis. The pained groan told him that the movement had cost Noct, but he couldn’t scold him, knowing that Noctis needed to see him, needed the comfort of knowing that he was still in the present, that the pain that was so reminiscent of what he had endured back then was only fleeting. Ignis moved to match him, holding up his arm, making room for Noctis to scoot closer and the younger man wasted no time in accepting the silent invitation, crawling into the space he had left and curling against him. This close there was no missing the trembling wracking his body, or the way Noct’s heart was pounding in his chest, breathing strained as he hid his face against Ignis’ shoulder.

“Easy, it’s okay,” Ignis soothed, gentle as he wrapped his arms around Noct, knowing that it would hurt but also accepting that Noctis wouldn’t want anything else. “You’re okay.” He wasn’t, they both knew it, but he was alive and after all this time, after everything that could have been that was more than enough for the two of them.

_He’s alive…_

**

    They spent the better part of the morning curled up in bed together, never venturing farther than the bathroom, and in Ignis’ case the kitchen to grab a can of ebony. It was a luxury they would never have been allowed in the past, this peace and quiet to cuddle and recover from the morning, to talk in soft voices between short naps, exchanging tender kisses that were flooded with relief. They both knew that it could have been a lot worse, that it could have lasted for days…that it might last for days when the next episode inevitably came.

They had learned to count their blessings.

And they had been blessed.

       When Ignis had listened to his King walking away from him in Insomnia, they had both believed that was the last time they were going to see each other. They had both known the price that had to be paid for the dawn. The ten years in darkness, with Noctis lost within the crystal had taught Ignis to be selfish, and the night before the final battle he had pleaded with him not to follow the path fate had decided for him. Begged him to live, to stay with him, not caring in that moment that they would be condemning the world to darkness.  Noctis had kissed him that night, breaking the wall that they had desperately tried to keep between them for so long, and Ignis had shattered it, exploring his King, loving him in a way that had always been denied…and in the morning Noctis had walked to his fate with his head held high, and Ignis’ heart in his hands.

    When the sun had crept over the horizon, the warm tendrils alighting on his skin alerting him even before the others had said a word, he knew that he had lost his King.

That he had lost Noctis.

    Ignis had shattered then, his heart lost with his King, his grief immense and made worse by the fact that they had found no trace of Noctis beyond the blood that had stained the sword buried in the throne. However, there had been no doubt in their mind that he had perished. It was the cruel fate that had been laid on his shoulders as a child, one that they had tried to ignore for as long as possible and could ignore no longer.

They mourned.

Lucis and all the people that had believed in Noct mourned, and the sun continued to rise and fall.

    It was a new age, a new world and gradually people learned to trust that the sun would continue to rise. Months passed as everyone worked to rebuild their lives, Insomnia slowly coming to life again, resurrected by the loss of her King. Ignis had only lingered long enough to see the city breathe again, a parliament of elected officials headed by Cor taking control as no one wanted to touch the throne, to infringe on the sacrifice that had been made for them. He had left the day that they had erected the monument to Noctis in the city centre, disappearing back into the wilds where he had learned to hunt in the long years of Noct’s absence.

    Gladio and Prompto knew where he was and visited when they could, but they still had a life in this new age. A purpose. Gladio was working with Cor, making Lucis secure again and tackling the few daemons that still roamed the streets at night, and Prompto had taken to photographing the rebirth of the country, his photos telling the story that no one could put into words, and if he spent more time than necessary in Hammerhead then who was to comment. They had tried to involve Ignis, to help him find a place in this new world, until eventually he snapped, telling them that there was no purpose for him now. No reason in a world without Noctis. He knew that he had hurt them that day, although they hadn’t abandoned him.

    And so, he had existed, a ghost in the country that Noctis had died to save. There were days when he wished that he could follow his King, when he had even contemplated it, but Noct’s last words and the memory of the night they’d had stopped him each time. And so, he lingered, waiting for the day that he would be reunited with Noctis.

Unknowing that it would be sooner than he expected.

*

   Noctis had died that day, he had paid the price demanded by fate to return the sun to the world. What no one had told him, that there were others weighing his actions and choices, others who would offer him a choice.

_Would you like to go back?_

    The whispery voice that seemed to twine itself around him, everywhere and nowhere at once was the first hint that Noctis had that he wasn’t dead. He had been adrift in the darkness, along with nothing but the memory of the final fight, of the pain of feeling his body and soul being torn apart and consumed to bring about the miracle that the world had needed. He had thought that this was death, that the hopes that he’d had that he would get to see his father and Luna again had been for naught, but now he could feel life stirring in his limbs again and with it pain, a mere echo of what he had endured at the end, but enough to make him gasp.

It hurt.

It burned.

Yet, to feel that he had to be alive, and that wasn’t possible.

“Many things are possible,” the voice was closer this time, and Noctis found the strength to turn his head towards the sound, the darkness slowly receding as she drifted closer, a chill preceding her and coiling around Noctis, soothing against the burning in his skin.

“Gentiana…” he whispered, his voice little more than a rasp. He couldn’t call her by her other name when she looked like this, and he felt a pang as he looked at her, unable to see her without thinking about Luna. “What...why am I still here?”

“Because you have a choice to make,” she replied, eyes soft as she reached his side, and he shivered as she reached out to lay a hand on his cheek. The light around her pulsed, flowing over him, and he felt the pain receding, not gone, but buried for now and he sighed with relief, unconsciously leaning into her touch for a moment before he frowned and asked warily.

“A choice?”

“Fate set your path,” she replied, and Noctis flinched. His time in the crystal had allowed him to accept his fate, to understand what the sacrifice was, but there had always been a part of him that hated that the burden had been laid on his shoulder. The worst had been when Ignis had broken his silence and pleaded with him to stay, and his heart ached at the thought of the other man. Had he survived? Had he moved on? _Ignis…I’m sorry,_ he had wanted to stay, to live a long life with the man he had loved for so long, but duty and fate had lead him away. It took him a moment to realise that Gentiana was still speaking, and with difficulty he forced his thoughts away from Ignis to focus on what she was saying. “…however, her interest in you ended when you completed your task. Ours, has not.”

    Noctis shivered. He had the greatest respect for the Six, how could he not after everything that happened, but he had also felt their wrath and seen what they were capable of. Fate had been cruel to him, he wasn’t sure that the Gods would be kinder, although he didn’t voice that thought aloud, instead repeating his earlier question. “What choice do I have?” He had never had a choice, not in anything that mattered…even when Ignis had been stood in front of him pleading with him to stay, it had never been a choice, the weight of the Crystal and his fate forcing his path.

“You can rest,” Gentiana replied softly, and if she knew of his thoughts she gave no sign. “You have more than earned that right, and you would be free of your pain, of what your fate did to you and you would be able to see those who passed before you.” _Father…Luna…_ It was more tempting that he cared to admit, especially as pain lanced through him once more, barely held at bay by her chill, but time had taught him to weigh all options. _Listen, use your head and then make up your mind,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ignis’ cut through his thoughts.

“Or?”

“Or you can choose to go back.”

    Noctis blinked, certain that he must have misheard, waiting for her to laugh or to say something different, but she was quiet, watching him calmly. “I…” His voice didn’t want to work, a lump rising in the back of his throat, and he wasn’t sure if the storm in his chest was anger or relief. “I can go back…but…” _But I was told what the price would be._ No one had ever given him the slightest bit of hope that he might not have to give his life, that he might get a second chance.

 “Would have made it easier?” Gentiana asked, and Noctis frowned. “If you had known that you might be able to go back, would it have made the sacrifice easier to bear?” _Yes._ He would have been able to walk away from Ignis without feeling as though he was tearing them both in half, and he nodded tightly, unable to lie and she actually smiled. “That is why you weren’t told. That and we had to wait, and weigh the results of your efforts.” Noctis was almost afraid to ask, he knew that the prophecy was fulfilled, that the sun had come back, but had it been enough? Had he protected Lucis? Had he protected his friends?

_Ignis…_

“It was more than that,” Gentiana cut through his swirling thoughts, and Noctis swallowed, realising that she must have known his earlier thoughts as well. However, she didn’t seem offended, her expression softer and more open that he had ever seen it. “We weighed your actions from the moment you left Insomnia. We have seen the lives you have touched, both before and after the darkness, we have seen their grief at your lost and how they have used your strength to move on. Fate was cruel to one who has done more for this world than anyone, and we wish to level the scales.”

    Noctis had never really allowed himself to think about the legacy he would leave behind. He had known that Ignis…and Gods, he would be able to see him again, kiss him again…love him…and the others would mourn him, but he had barely been a King, he had never thought that his memory would linger beyond his friends and he wasn’t sure what to think about the idea of inspiring others to live.

_But Ignis…_

“I can go back…?”

“Yes,” Gentiana replied, before hesitating and meeting his gaze as she added slowly. “But not without cost.” _Of course, it couldn’t be that simple,_ Noctis thought bitterly, remembering Luna and the covenants she had made in order to help him and what it had cost her in the end, having long since learnt and come to terms that even without Ardyn she would have been lost. He didn’t let it show as he asked.

“What is the cost?”

“The power of Kings is gone, the Crystal destroyed.” Noctis shivered, feeling his body burning again and he closed his eyes as he remembered how the Kings had come to him, and it was a struggle to focus on her next words. “You will be a man, not a vessel anymore. You will be unable to warp, unable to use magic of any form.”

“Okay…”

“And these,” she moved her hand, running her fingers lightly over his sore body and opening his eyes he saw the burning purple marks that ran across his skin. “The marks of what you endured will not fade completely, there will be moments when they haunt you. There is nothing we can do about that.”

    Noctis considered, knowing that the only reason why he wasn’t writhing right now was because of her power. However, he had known pain ever since the Crystal had chosen him. Each time he had warped, or used the Royal Arms it had burned, consuming him from the inside out and he had borne it. _This is different,_ something told him. _Worse._ Once upon a time it might have been enough to stop him, especially with his longing to see his father and Luna again, but it all paled in comparison, to the burning, desperate need to see Ignis again.

“I can live with that,” he whispered finally, lifting his head and meeting her gaze. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay…” _For Ignis…for us…_

    Gentiana smiled and nodded, stepping closer and leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead, cold washing over his body and chasing out the pain. He knew it was only a brief respite, but still he revelled in the feeling, and he closed his eyes as she lingered for a minute, before she rose, and he felt the world falling away from him…or maybe he was the one falling…her voice echoing around him once more.

_We will restore what was taken._

_Live in the sun, Noctis Lucis Caelum._

***

   Ignis had endured three long years without his King, barely existing, the loss never growing easier to bear. He had been haunted by the night they’d had together, almost cursing Noctis for loving him that night, although the anger never lasted long, because it had been the only memory he’d had of them. He was reaching the end of his tether, taking longer and longer trips into the wilderness, almost hoping that the next hunt would be his last.

   He had been out in the middle of nowhere when he had first felt it, a stirring that he had felt since the moment Noctis had vanished. It was faint, nothing like the blazing light of the Crystal that Noct had shared with them, barely a whisper in the back of his mind but it was enough to make him pause, heart aching at the sensation. He hated himself for missing the feeling, for longing for it, because that power had been another part of the fate that had taken Noctis from him. He tried to will the sensation away, not wanting to feel it anymore, and is if to spite him the power seemed to surge, rising until the pressure of it had him falling to his knees.

    The long years in darkness had trained him to listen to his instincts, and detect the slightest shift in the air around him, and that served him now as the pressure built and built and then popped, with an almost audible noise. He felt the movement above and dove to the side, hands flying to his daggers as something heavy hit the spot where he had been seconds before, and he crouched, tense as he listened for movement. But whatever had fallen was still, and Ignis was no longer as patient as he had been. _Reckless,_ a voice that sounded like his younger self whispered as he inched forward, weapons at the ready as he felt for what had fallen.

    He encountered material first, tattered and torn beneath his searching fingers. Clothing he realised a moment later when he felt skin beneath his fingertips and he yanked his hands back, tense again, waiting for the trap to spring. Now that he was this close he could make out breathing, deep enough to make him think whoever it was, was unconscious, and ragged enough to pique his concern. It was times like this that he missed his sight, and he waited a couple of minutes before inching forward. “Hello?” Nothing, and no shift in the breathing and very few people were that good at acting when someone armed with daggers was crouched over you. Biting his lip, he slid one dagger away, tightening his grip on the other, before he reached out once more, feeling his way up until he encountered the person’s chin.

    Cautiously he kept going, pausing to check that he wasn’t imaging that the person was breathing, relieved to feel weak puffs of air against his hand. Then slowly, carefully he mapped out the person’s features.

   It was as he moved past the nose that something had tugged at his thoughts. He knew these features, but from where? It wasn’t until he had mapped out the man’s eyes, and he knew it was a man, the beard that had brushed against his arm confirming that fact, that the realisation slammed into him. He had only indulged like this once, only mapped out those features, changed after a decade in the crystal, on that one night.

But that wasn’t possible…

It couldn’t be possible, not now, not after all this time…

_Noct…_

*****

“What are you thinking about?” Ignis was dragged out of his wandering thoughts by Noct’s soft voice, and he was relieved to note that he sounded better than he had earlier, the rest having done him good, and there was a smile on Ignis’ face when he replied.

“I was thinking about the day you came back to me.”

“You mean the day I nearly landed on you,” Noct teased, shifting back slightly so he wasn’t as tightly pressed to Ignis’ chest, and Ignis knew that he was being watched, could feel the burning gaze like an almost physical touch.

“Yes, the day you nearly landed on me,” he echoed drily, loving that Noct could refer to that day so flippantly. It had taken Ignis a while to come out of his shock and call for help, and he hadn’t dared to believe that it was Noct, even when Gladio and Prompto had come, their shocked cries and questions telling him that wasn’t imaging thigs. However, he also hadn’t been able to leave. Sitting beside Noct in the Citadel’s infirmary where they had spirited him away to, and for nearly a week he had sat and waited and brooded. Torn between certainty that it couldn’t be his Noctis, hope that it was…and fear and regret…because if it really was Noct, then he should have been looking for him all this time.

    When Noctis had finally woken, weak as a new-born lamb, the first name out of his mouth had been Ignis’, and it had only been then when his King had reached for him a broken sob that Ignis had allowed himself to believe.

    There were still days, even a decade later that he woke up thinking that must have been a dream, and he found himself reaching out for Noctis, needing the reassurance, and Noct met him halfway, catching his searching fingers and squeezing lightly. “I’m here Ignis.” The almost painful tightening of Noctis’ fingers told Ignis that he wasn’t the only one who needed that reassurance, and he tugged, knowing that Noct wouldn’t fight him as he pulled him close.

“My miracle,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss Noctis, feeling the younger man smiling into it and melting against him. There had been times in the early days where they hadn’t been sure that it was, as Noctis struggled to adapt to a world that had changed greatly in the three years since his ‘death’, a world where he drew wide-eyed looks and bows.

    He had refused the crown. Lucis had entered a new age, peaceful under the new parliament and even when Cor himself had pleaded with him to take the throne, Noctis had merely shaken his head and refused. It was Ignis alone, who knew about the nightmares, the nights when Noctis would awake screaming from nightmares of when he had been pinned to that same throne. But he knew that it was more than that. Noct had come back changed, in body and mind. He was no longer the vessel for the Crystal, and there was no need for a King to keep the daemons at bay, the sun rising and setting without fail, and no one could argue that Noct had more than earned the freedom to choose his own path, and he had chosen obscurity.

    It didn’t stop many people still referring to him as the King, bowing to him and treating with a reverence that he knew troubled Noct even now.

    Ignis had also taken a while to adapt to the situation. Knowing that Noctis had been alive all this time had weighed heavily on him, even when Noct had admitted that he hadn’t known how long he had been gone, that it had seemed like days if that whilst he was lost in the darkness. Then there had been them memory of that night to overcome, and he had found himself worried that maybe that night and the feelings that had been spoken had only happened because Noct had known he was going to die. It had taken Noct time to wear him down and convince him that wasn’t the case, that Ignis had been the reason he had come back.

   The reason he suffered these episodes where his body fought to remind him of what he had been allowed to survive.  “Noct…was it worth it?” He asked softly, suddenly uncertain. For the most part he had accepted that Noctis had made his choice, and that whilst it had been because of him, it wasn’t his fault. But there were times, moments like this when the memories of that time were too close to the surface, and Noct was recovering from another episode, that the doubts seeped in again. He felt, rather than heard the frustrated growl, before Noctis was kissing him again, fiercer this time, fingers biting into Ignis’.

“Yes.” Noctis whispered as he pulled back, his voice resolute. It was almost the same tone he had used all those years ago when he had refused to abandon his duty, his fate, but it was softer, filled with fondness, as he used his other hand to reach up and cup Ignis’ cheek, gently brushing his fingers over the scarring. “I wouldn’t give up these last ten years, this life I have with you for anything. It has been worth every moment of pain and I would make the same choice over and over, just to have this.” Ignis couldn’t speak, powerless under the force of those words, under the utter conviction in Noctis’ words. Even after all this time, it awed him that, that night had lead them here and unable to find the words he leant in, seeking out Noctis’ lips once more, kissing him with all the tenderness he possessed, trying to convey the feelings whirling in his chest.

_Our miracle, our blessing, in this world under the sun that Noctis had brought back to us._


End file.
